


Candles in the Window

by thedemonkingawakes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonkingawakes/pseuds/thedemonkingawakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is called away on a mission two days before Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles in the Window

It was stupid, Natasha knew. Stupid and weak and needy. She was the deadliest assassin in the world; she didn’t need comfort, she didn’t need love, and she most certainly didn’t need a man to protect her. That hadn’t stop her heart skipping a beat when Clint’s secure line rang two days before Christmas. He had set down the strand of lights he’d been unraveling and taken the call.

Natasha had been able to see from the way his face had darkened that it wasn’t good. With a sigh, he had tucked the phone back into his pocket and stepped out of the tangle of lights and tinsel that covered the better part of their floor. He had pulled her into a hug, resting his head on hers.

“When?” She had asked, her voice muffled by Clint’s soft t-shirt.

Clint’s voice had been quiet and subdued when he replied. “One hour.”

“Well then,” Natasha had replied, stepping back from Clint’s warm embrace. “We’d best get to work on the tree. I assume your bag is packed.”

Clint had nodded and picked up a strand of brightly colored lights.

Natasha looked over at the big tree, standing in the corner of the living room. It was dark except for the faint glimmer of moonlight on the tinsel. With Clint off who knows where without her to watch his back, she hadn’t felt much like celebrating.

A knock at the door startled her. She looked over at it as Steve pushed the door open.

“Hey, Nat, Tony and I are getting a group together to go caroling. You should come with us.”

Natasha smiled half-heartedly at him. “Thank you for asking, but I have a lot of work to do.”

Steve frowned, but didn’t push the issue. “He’ll be okay Natasha.” He left, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

Natasha stood up and walked into her bedroom. Clint’s things were tucked neatly into his drawer, just like they always were when he was away. Natasha changed into one of his t-shirts and a pair of black leggings. As she yanked the t-shirt over her head, Natasha’s fingers brushed the arrow necklace hanging around her throat. A half-sob escaped her as Clint’s scent enveloped her, warm and earthy.

The phone rang. Natasha picked it up slowly. Clint’s number was splayed across the bright screen. Natasha answered it, lifting the phone to her ear.

“Clint?”

“Hey Tasha.”

A smile broke out on Natasha’s face at the sound of Clint’s voice.

“How’s the decorating going?”

“Fine.” Natasha lied. “I’m almost done. How’s your mission going?”

“Fine.”

Natasha could hear the badly concealed lie in Clint’s voice, even through the phone. “Seriously, Clint, how bad is it?”

Clint sighed. “It could be worse. My target isn’t hard to track; he’s just surrounded by people all the time. I can’t get him alone, and well…”

“You can’t risk drawing the attention to yourself and to Shield by taking him in the open.”

“I have a plan, though, and unless something goes wrong, I should have what I came for in a couple of hours.”

“Will you be home in time for Christmas?” Natasha asked, hardly daring to hope.

“I dunno, Tash. There’s a snowstorm coming in and I doubt any flights will be leaving once it hits. I’m sorry.”

Even though she knew Clint couldn’t see her, Natasha shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

“Listen, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Hawk?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

The line went dead. Natasha set the phone gently back in its cradle and stood up. Clint’s present was still sitting unwrapped in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Natasha pulled it out and wrapped it carefully in a silver paper decorated with holly leaves. She set it under the tree with the one present Clint had wrapped before he left. The presents looked lonely, sitting alone under the big tree.

~*~*~

It was nearly midnight when Natasha set down the book she had been trying - and failing - to read for the past several hours. On a whim, she grabbed a pair of candles from the box sitting on the floor and set one in each of the tall windows that looked out over the city that never sleeps. She struck a match and lit each of the candles, sending a faint scent of pine drifting around the living room.

Natasha watched the flickering flames sadly for a moment before she turned out the lights and slipped into bed. She was asleep in moments, years of training letting her drift off to sleep even though her mind was roiling.

~*~*~

_Clint’s body was lying on the cold, metal table in the morgue, riddled with bullets. His grey eyes were still open, staring unseeing at the sky. Natasha stepped forward and gently closed his eyes. His skin was cold, all the life long gone from his body. Natasha could feel the tears streaming down her face._

_All of Clint’s scars were there, laid out for everyone to see. Natasha could see the scar from their first meeting and the scars from Budapest and Madrid and New York. His entire life, laid out in scars across his body, like a book to be read._

_By now, her tears were dripping off her face onto the cold hard floor of the morgue._

_“I’m sorry, Clint. I’m so so sorry. I should’ve been there, I should have done something.”_

~*~*~

“Clint…” Natasha tossed and turned restlessly in the bed. “I’m sorry Clint.”

Someone touched her shoulder gently. “Tasha. Tash. Wake up.”

Natasha sat up, one hand reaching for the knife she kept under her pillow. When she saw Clint, she stopped, all the fight draining out of her.

Clint sat down gingerly on the bed next to Natasha and wrapped his arms around her. Natasha seemed to shrink into herself, leaning back against Clint’s strong frame as tears formed in her eyes.

“Tash, what is it?”

“Just a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?” Clint asked, kicking off his shoes and leaning back against the headboard.

Natasha didn’t say anything for several long minutes. Clint just rubbed circles on her back with his hand, letting her speak when she was ready.

“You were dead and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I wasn’t there to watch your back, and you died, and it was my fault.”

Clint pulled Natasha closer to himself and rested his head on hers. “Nothing bad happened Tash. I’m fine.”

Natasha shifted so she could rest her head on Clint’s shoulder. He winced slightly at the pressure. Natasha pulled away and raised herself onto one elbow so she could look Clint in the eye.

“It’s just a bruise Tasha.”

Gently, Natasha pulled Clint’s shirt over his head so she could see the extent of his injuries. Clint tossed his shirt onto the floor as Natasha looked at him. A thick line of bruises spiraled up one arm, stretching all the way from his elbow to his shoulder. Various smaller bruises covered much of his chest and back. A myriad of tiny cuts covered his right arm and part of his back. Clint smirked as he noticed Natasha looking at them.

“I crashed through another window.”

Natasha smiled. “I thought you knew better, Clint. You were complaining for a week after New York.”

“I guess I never learn.” Clint shrugged, then winced as the motion made his bruised shoulder hurt.

Natasha smiled again and leaned back against Clint’s uninjured shoulder.

“How did you get back? I thought you said all flights were grounded until the snow let up.”

“I may have convinced Stark to let me take one of his jets. None of his pilots would fly in the storm, so I just went ahead and piloted it myself.”

“You’re an idiot.” Natasha said quietly, leaning up and planting a chaste kiss on Clint’s lips.

“Love you too, Tasha.”

“Merry Christmas, Clint.”

“Merry Christmas, Tasha.” Clint kissed Natasha’s forehead softly.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might post another chapter at some point with Clint's point of view, but for now this is it.


End file.
